First Born

 ...
Without any warning, I have been swept up. Recent life happenings have added to my ever-growing list of Julie's-time-on-this-planet favorites. Glimpses into daily living that are pure, real and ever so beautiful.

Yep. I'm talking babies. 

If I were able to pocket a secret stash of memories to carry with me when my time here is over, how could babies not make the list? What's not to love? That curled up little ball of a person with soft perfect skin, fresh new baby smell and the significant resemblance to a really old man. How can that not make your uterus do a dance of joy? And while babies are perfect... I am actually referencing something MORE magical than new babies. Gasp! Is there anything more wonderful? Why yes, I believe there is.

The building of a family.

The past few weeks have gifted us with the birth of a bunch of new specials in our lives. Our specials having their specials. It is all very wonderful. That alone, fills me with such insurmountable levels of joy---but to top it off, these are first babies being born... the makers of parents. And that, is a beauty all to itself.

We know love growing up... at least I hope so. And then one day, you meet that special someone and your heart beats in a whole new way. It flutters. This flutter is really quite great. And although you have no blood relation to this person (hopefully!) for some reason, you can't imagine them anything but family. So you give them your heart. It is love. One layer of great and perfect love.

Who knew there were so many other layers to love?

Going to the hospital that first time to meet your new baby is terrifying. Giant bunches of excitement all wrapped up in a pretty package of nerves. You have your ideal birth plan, you've called in your biggest fans and you are not even sure that you are truly in labor but you spend the whole way praying you are because how can you go home without a baby? The idea of waiting a day longer seems torturous and if you're anything like I was, this wasn't your first visit to maternity obs. My pride needed it to be the "real deal" because dang, those "contractions" sure seemed real.

You pretty immediately figure out that babies have their own birth plans. Those contractions you felt on the way are quickly replaced with HOLY HELL WHAT IS GOING ON IN THERE type of fun and you are rapidly coming to regret the crawfish etouffee you had for dinner last night. The one who made your heart flutter and got you into this business of making babies may or may not be discussing politics at the foot of your bed with family. Oye. Let's face it, a cherry limeade never sounded so good. But you're in it to win it and there is no backing out now.

So you breathe. You soak up all the newfound terminology that is hospital living like effacement and dilation. Your hooha quickly becomes the most popular person in the room and you very soon come to know all that is possible of your go-go-gadget delivery bed. You have read all the books, gone to the classes, are surrounded by your best advocates... and yet, in this moment, you feel under-prepared. Tired. Nervous. You look at your partner, remember to breathe and push like what you imagine is the hardest possible push ever. Eyes-closed-kinda-pushing because we all know it must be a mighty push if your eyes are closed. It is a busy, chaotic moment of living...

and then suddenly...

 It isn't anymore.

 And just like that, you are a family.

Your day is no longer about how much time you get for yourself but rather how much time you maximize with your favorite tiny. Happy hour now references the time in the day that you get to shower... which is in actuality  usually taken with the door ajar, shower curtain half closed and baby monitor on full blast. Diapers are now your biggest online purchase and sleeping 5 hours straight feels like a present. A very BIG present.

You find yourself just staring at this ity-bitty that you grew inside and can't help but wonder... is there anything better in this world than this? See.  First-born kind of magic.

And before you know it, they go from this...

 to this...

and you spend the evening sprawled on a blanket at an outdoor musical venue as they tell you about the babies they plan to have. In Molly's case, a whole hundred. A good mix of boys and girls with names of Lemon drop, Malasha, Allison and Elizabeth. Some with straight hair, others with curly. She has a busy life in the works with all hundred children, her husband "probably named John" with hair just like Daddy at their home on the beach. Where she says I can live next door. To help hug on her hundred kids. Okay.

So mark that to my lists of favorites. The Makenzies. The Jacks, Ellies, Harpers, and Jaydas. The Bellas, Bens and Seths. The Averys, Helens and Grahams. The Sydneys, Millers, Judes and Eleanors. 

The Mollys.

My heart is so thankful for you.